


Our World, Our Territory

by BurrSquee, Tikor



Series: Castebook:  Full Moon [4]
Category: Exalted
Genre: Gen, Lunars, POV First Person, Roleplaying Character, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 08:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13360728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurrSquee/pseuds/BurrSquee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikor/pseuds/Tikor
Summary: Herein are the worlds of six Full Moons, as best they can claim dominance over it.





	1. Our World, Our Territory: Full Moon

The world of the Full Moon is that which they can see, smell, and touch. Unlike their more social, cerebral, or fiercely autonomous brothers and sisters, the Full Moons are grounded in Gaia’s great Creation, showing their full light to the world. Though the physical often dominates their understanding, there are exceptions among the Full Moons. As the grace of a fighter is beyond the ken of most, so too must the Full Moons stretch their minds to understand more of the world than claws and blood. But some do stretch, and they are twice as deadly for it.


	2. Strength of Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strength of Many, seeker of harmony, giver of freedom.

**The Silver Pact**  
To no one’s surprise, I was tattooed as a Full Moon. All of my trials I approached with strength and force. To have Luna’s blessing enhancing my body the entire month suits me well. But I have learned that I am among the few, not the many of the Silver Pact to have chosen this path.

Many of my brethren by Luna’s touch rely on words or thoughts instead of strength of limb. They may be words of power or the prayers that sway spirits, they may be the thoughts that weave souls into moonsilver or those that heal the broken warrior, but I do not understand why they are not the warriors themselves with all the might they could reach out and take.

Maybe I’ll understand when I’ve traveled further why some Lunars choose to support and others choose to fight. Right now, I like to wander the trade roads and free what slaves I can while I come to terms with what Luna has made me.

 **Stewardship**  
So-Lu-Si would always go on about our need for stewardship. That to protect something, someone, even an idea, was the true meaning of a Lunar. I noticed that Tamuz usually sat quietly and listened through these repeated rants. Meanwhile, Thorn Sun and Moon could barely let the woman finish before gushing like a lust-mad boy about his Rose. The closest I have to something under my stewardship is the free man. I usher him from slavery, then set him free upon the savannah. 

**Strength**  
On the savannah, when you are miles away from the tribe’s wandering place, and a cow decided she did not want to respond to shouts or the stick, well, stronger measures are called for. I’d place both hands on her bulk, set my feet, and shove. She got moving after that.

No matter where you go or what you try to do, there will always be a stubborn cow that listens to nothing and no one. It is best to have the strength to shove what stands in your way aside by force. Otherwise, you’ll have to choose being separated from your tribe or leaving a good meal, or whatever else you desire, behind. 

**The Guild**  
As far as I know, they enslave the most people of any organization. The 'hard trade' they call it. Doesn't seem so hard for them. Then again, I'm making it harder. Maybe I'm not the first. I hope to be the last.

 **The Realm**  
The slavers don't simply use the slaves themselves. Yes, they use them plenty. But they mostly sell them. Their biggest customer is the richest nation in the world, across the Inner Sea, the Realm. The two-faced Dragon-Blooded won't allow their own people to be enslaved, but happily pay for the Threshold to give up their young and strong. Heh, when a Lunar complains about your duplicity, you know you've gone too far.

 **Survival**  
We must be in balance with nature. To be out of balance, to take more than you give, to rely on something that is not replenished, is to doom yourself. Our ancestors knew how to live in harmony with the land, with the gods, and with each other. If I took no action on these beliefs, the dependent would die and those who find harmony would live, at least mostly. But I would rather see us all prosper. I teach by example. A few of the slaves I have freed follow that example, though most have too much to unlearn.


	3. Thorn Sun and Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorn Sun and Moon, the wild man settling down.

**Settling Down**  
The biggest challenge of living with Rose has been learning how t’ live how Rose expects me t’ live. Gosh if I don’t get itchy for a fight often. But, I’ve told the Second Bloody Brothers not to start no fights they don’t have to start, and I’ll have a damned time getting them to listen if I start at it myself. Instead we’ve been tussling about with each other. Dulled blades and a few rules. It’s not really fighting, but it’s like rubbing an itch. It puts the true scratch off for a little while. But it’s worth it to be by Rose’s side.

 **Rose, Moon and Sun**  
My Rose is just the prettiest, sweetest, kindest, cutest little ball of woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to tolerate my lowly company. I don’t know what she sees in me, but I sure see a lot in her. Have since before I saw her, back when I would just dream about her. 

She knows just what to say to put me at ease, build me up for what needs doing, talk me back from the edge when I have half a mind to rip something apart. It’s not just me, either. She works her magic on a dozen old village elders every new town we walk into. She makes ‘em set aside old grudges and remember what they have in common with each other, which is a lot more than folks who’d ride in and take ever’thing they got. Travelling with her always feels like it has a purpose, like we’re marching out to make order in a messy world, even though it's just me and my Second Bloody Brothers, her and a few of her trusted helpers we’ve picked up along the way. And once we camp down, she gives the best massages. Knows just where to rub or scratch. It’s not even anything sexual, most of the time. Just peaceful. 

Anyhow, I’ve found my place by Rose’s fire. I have a mind not to leave it. Not ever.

 **Ranchers and Raiders**  
Staying by Rose’s side, though, meant that I had to make some changes. First of all, I had to quit raiding. That was hard to accept, until Rose told me I’d be fed just for standing around lookin’ tough, and I’d even have a nice place to sleep indoors. I held fast, though. I said my Second Bloody Brothers would have to get the same deal, or no deal. She was quick to say yes. Sometimes I wonder if’n’aye could’a asked for a bit more.

Rose has some of her folk collect a little bit from all her villages, gives some of that to me and my Second Bloody Brothers, and in return we make sure that nobody raids these villages twice. We can’t be everywhere, but after we cleared out our fourth batch of bandits nobody’s been knocking on doors looking to take things for free for the last year or two. I kinda miss huntin’ ‘em down t’ be honest wit’cha. Once we find ‘em, we don’ gotta take any o’ their spoils back t’ the village so when we clear ‘em out we make sure t’ have a hollerin’ good time jus’ like the old raiding days. 

The ranchers, though, they sure make sure to tell Rose how safe they feel, even if ‘ey look at me and the Second Bloody Brothers side-eyed most times. So the ranchers and the Second Bloody Brothers tolerate each other. And there’s some farmers, too, scattered about.

 **The Drink**  
One thing I’ll say about farmers: they know how to distill some grain into some right fine hooch. Old Wheat Wind, he’s got a still he says was handed down by his ‘pap that came from the Realm itself. It’s got some scuffed Dragons on it, for sure, but that don’t mean much when you consider Lookshy. Anyhow, wherever it came from, it makes some strong spirits. The kind you can drink, not the kind that give me and Rose trouble all the time.

 **Spirits**  
Ever’body knows there’s a spirit for jus’ about ever’thing. Nice thing about ‘em, tho’, is that they’re usually too little to start talking to you. Well, at least most places. Yeah, the big cities got gods you can talk to, if you’re important enough. But the spirits don’t bother the country folk if you pray to ‘em right. They don’t ‘ave the mind for much else than what they’re about. At least they didn’t used to.

See, now that Rose has gathered a good dozen villages together, made ‘em promise t’ protect each other from raiders and to trade with each other, this little village of Rose’s is getting a lot more traffic than it used to. Some folks from round yonder have decided to settle down here because it feels safer than where they from. And that’s changed it int’a what I’d call a town, sure as shootin’. Towns, they have spirits. Ones that talk. And now they talk to Rose. Sometimes she brings me in to speak wit’ ‘em too, when some bad apple needs tracked down or done away with. I don’t mind the work, I like being useful, and keeping sharp. It’s that sanctioned kind of acceptable slaughter, the only kind I get up to these days. But it still makes me uneasy. I liked it best when the spirits stuck to their world, and we stuck to ours. 

**The Silver Pact**  
The Gatherings are a fun time, these tattoos have come in handy a time or two, I haven’t become some slavering beast, and every time I meet up with one of them I learn something new. Gotta say, the Silver Pact are alright in my book. When I got the time, I help ‘em out right back.

 **Strength of Many**  
Now there’s a character I’m glad I haven’t thrown down with. Thicker than a tree and solid as a rock, that one is. He’s even bigger’n Bear Fist. Now, I’m not saying I wouldn’t get a good knock or two in if it came to fightin’. Just that, all he’d need is one. 

He and I are good friends, though. The Pact asked me to watch over his tattooing trials, and since Rose seemed to have things under control I journeyed Southwest t’ retell some of those stories I heard when Lilith dragged me off. I sure told Strength of Many about Lilith. Told him t’ _watch out_. 

If I ever get int’a something I can’t fight my own way out of, I’ll be asking Rose to send one of her little spirit faries to that old bull, see if he can’t come help me rough up whatever’s giving us trouble f’r a favor down the road. 

**The Sun King Seneschals**  
I don’t go around saying the Solars oughta rule the world at the top of my lungs like some of those crazies. But, it’s alright by me that Rose has the run of these little villages in what used to be Roka-Jin. We don’t hear much from Queen Sahula these days. Some taxman came by asking for what Rose thought was too much, and I gladly tossed him outta town. Figure that makes it official as anything. Official rebellion or official new state, we’ve yet to find out, cause old Queeney hasn’t sent word back about her taxman.

She does a good job seeing that everybody helps each other through the hard times. Seems to me like they’d be in better shape if the Bull hadn’t swung through with me and the Bloody Brothers behind him. So there’s a strike against Solars ruling the world. ‘Course, its not like I’m looking for the job. Lotta folks right here might say the same sort of damning thing about me, prolly, from my raidin’ days. 

Anyhow, when it comes up, an’ it has when I’ve been called away to Gatherings or to judge a trial, thems the lot I throw myself in with. They seem the least likely to have a problem with what Rose and I got going around here. And that’s what’s important, not how I think the world should be. Creation ain’t ever gonna be the way _I_ think it should be.


	4. Bulb of the Perfected Lotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulb of the Perfected Lotus, katas under canopy's shadow.

**My Tribe Within the Tribe, the Falling Lotuses**  
As Luna told me the one and only time we have met, I am of her tribe. I make it to the Gatherings within my ranging, and I pay her respect as our mother and chief. But we Lunars are territorial siblings, each favoring our own corner of Creation. Yet prowling the forests alone leads to dark thoughts and fear. When surrounded by mortals, they relieve the loneliness of facing the the world with no one to watch your back. I have taken the advice of some elders I’ve confessed these feelings to, and those same have pointed me to the Winding Path. I lead my own tribe, the Falling Lotuses, made from those I have met in the jungle who chose to follow me, while still remembering that I am but a pup in Luna’s litter even after living three full mortal lifetimes. I try to balance the two.

My mentor, Magnificent Jaguar, saw me for the untrained fighter I was and became my sifu during his most recent trip to the East. I have tried to pass along the discipline he taught me to my tribe. It is still a work in progress. My children, their own spark of Luna within them, are my greatest pupils. The mortals, they do try, but their efforts are like children playing at fighting: more comical than threatening. I take the most handsome, hardworking among them and reward them with my bed. Both male and female; by the grace of the Twin Faced Hero I am their other half. At least their seed and their wombs bears fruit, unlike their training.

My children look to me like I look to Luna. I try to tell them that I am but a shadow of her light, that she deserves their praise. But as they have never seen her, and they see me most days of the moon, I have not convinced them. The mortals of the Falling Blossoms tribe follow their lead, as is only proper. It is not their fault but mine that both groups worship me. I have never been able to explain well with words, and I cannot turn my claws on my own children, not really. Only in practice, only to make them better.

Together we have settled North and West of the warring tree tribes, where the trees’ fruit is not as sweet, but also not as covered in blood. We hunt more than we gather, and have to range far to keep us all fed. My children hold the positions of shaman and war chief and chief's family all, and we are paid loving obedience by the tribe. All are free to wander off and make their own tribe, should they choose to, but few have. No other tribe dares to contest us since we slaughtered the Kekee tribe who once lived on our lands. We are far from the Wyld. I lead them in our idle time towards perfecting their bodies and minds in the motions of the Martial Arts of the Falling Blossom Style. We are content. I feel as though Luna smiles on us.

 **Bitter Sap, The Ill Lilly**  
She is my sun. My very own light in the sky. Yes, our first meeting was violent, but I lay that fault at Arilak’s temple, not Bitter Sap’s person. How could I love someone who wasn’t dangerous? I’d worry about them night and day. That Bitter Sap can crack a man’s skull open in one blow or make a god writhe in pain from poison gives me calm. That will serve her well on the road. It will serve her whenever I’m not there to raise my hand against her enemies. She knows this now. She’ll never try to harm me again.

I sent her to Tikor, that old dog. I couldn’t escape it. I promised that to her, and I promised that to Tikor. She’ll learn much there, new stories for her to tell me, ways to understand me that she lacks now. Tikor will send her back with some boon that I’m sure will help me and my tribe greatly. But I regret it already. My children ask what is wrong and I tell them that I am in love. I tell them I still love them, but they can sense that now it is only with half a heart. That is all I can spare since my sun came to shine in my life. 

Since she has gone I have begun to write about her. Poetry of my devotion. Magnificent Jaguar told me this would happen. That I would learn the last technique of the Falling Blossom when I met the one that deserved it. I was furious with him at the time. I felt he was lying to me, that he wanted to keep the most powerful technique to himself. I was a fool. I’m close now, I can feel it. Once I find the right set of verses, I will infuse it with my Essence, and it will be done. Bitter Sap will outlive me, I am sure of it, I will _make sure_ of it, but I hope we have thousands of years together before I leave her.

 **Arilak**  
Once, I thought the East was mine to roam, and that I chose to claim the area that I have. Now I know that I was lucky to settle in Calita’s domain. If I had chosen to leave my tribe’s lands and move south into the jungles of Arilak’s, my time with Bitter Sap would have been much different. No god of her power would suffer her priestess to be captured in her own domain.

Arilak is a problem I must solve. Gods don’t just go away. You cannot steal one of their priestesses and expect to make no amends. I’ve thought of gifts, but I do not know Arilak’s nature well. I will consult Bitter Sap when she returns. Both on the best nature of a gift, and on how to avoid being poisoned the moment I set foot in her jungle.

 **My Dream Children**  
Other Lunars in the Gatherings that I speak with on the topic of dreams have such wonders to relay. They dream of times of glory where they commanded armies, or saved the sick and the poor from their fate with their riches and knowledge, or traveled to heaven itself. I have no such dreams of grandeur. Mine repeat, again and again, of floating in the ocean. I’ve never tasted water so salty, but my well-traveled kin tell me that it exists. I am but a speck, eating whatever other speck I swim to for many moons. Eventually I grow and swim to shore where I scavenge what washes upon the sand, travelling on ten legs, using my hard shell to avoid birds and beasts who want to eat me. Finally, I am man-sized and live in the trees where I hunt and crush whatever draws too close. I find another of my crab-kind and mate with it, then scurry away to my own territory. Going back to the ocean, I birth thousands more of the specks I once was. 

These events, these memory-dreams, make no sense to me yet, but these dream children of mine call to me. The children I already have need much instruction on the gifts that pass from Luna through my blood to them. Otherwise they would terrorize the rest of the tribe with strength they cannot control. What would thousands such spread across the open ocean do? I do not know, and the lack of knowing swells fear in me. But the dreams are so persistent. I feel that once in my long life I will do this thing, just to make them go away.


	5. Kajeha Lef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kajah Lef and the five boundaries to Creation.

**On the Boundary of the Real**  
All the edges of the world are Luna’s domain. I tend them for him, though none so actively as the Wyld. As a god of change, of transition, of imagination, the boundary to lands where all three are ascendant means much to him. 

Luna told me of his lover Gaia, she who rides the comet Gnosis in the Faraway. Once, that great being lived in the Creation that she birthed. There Luna caressed her body, using his ten thousand faces to keep Gaia enamored in her great work that we call home. The Wyld was the first border to Creation, before any other. To patrol the Wyld is to mimic Luna’s ancient love and to be on hand to welcome her with a friendly face should Gaia choose to return. Luna told me what to watch for, the green robes and dusty feet of her jouten, the rocky center and trail of transpermia behind her comet-self, and the scent of life that coats each. I fervently hope I can reunite my husband with his first love, to see him happy. 

However, the reality, such as it is, of walking the Wyld lands has not bore any signs of missing Gaia. Dream gives way to nightmare, each a hallucination that tugs the mind and disorients the eyes. In the Middlemarches of Tilismall, lorded over by the Singing Sisters Three, Sansibar, Swisilace, and Soughtenborough, the path I trod upon curved downward sharply. I was unconcerned, for near the Pole of Air, changes in elevation among the floating islands were commonplace. I do not know how many times I walked around the island before I noticed I had been walking in circles; each revolution the scenery changed. The pattern gave it away; the Fae are never as creative as they think they are. First I would see pine trees, with needles of grey as if planted in a shadowland, then the trees would become spares, replaced by scrub brushes with black leaves to stand out among the snow, and last there was nothing but a sheet of ice sheer enough to skate downward upon, with a grey-pine forest on the horizon. Though I never saw the same patch of trees, nor evidence of my previous passage, I could tell I was journeying through the same waypoint, held back from progressing in my patrol.

I called out to the empty air, “Lords of Chaos, show yourselves.”

There was no answer, just the swirling snow around me. I felt the rage inside me begin to grow at being dismissed so. I slammed my direlance down into the ground, freeing my hands. I raised myself high before slamming my fist down into the ground, cracking and splitting the rock bed beneath me. I would not be ignored. 

In a twisting gust, three figures appeared ahead of me; close enough to see but far enough to be out of my range. They stood there, each with wildly different appearances. I could tell Sansibar easily, with her hair, flaming red and glowing, as though it were actually made of fire. In fact, all of her was glowing, casting a faint glow upon the snow. She stood tall and proud, with much of her flesh exposed to the chill in the air. Next to her was the stately Swisilace, whose long black hair trailed nearly to the ground. Her eyes gave her away as Raksha, each entire eye a brilliant blue, with no discernible difference between her iris and sclera. The last one was the strangest of all. Instead of appearing human, Soughtenborough was formed as though she was made from the snow and ice itself, white and jagged in her crystalline form.

Nothing was said between the sisters or myself, but Soughtenborough raised her faceted hand, and what I can only describe as ice wolves barreled down at me. Taking my direlance from its place next to me, I readied myself for battle. As the first few came close enough to lunge, I swung my direlance like a slashing sword, knocking the bodies into one another with enough force to cause them to shatter at my feet. With such fragile bodies, the skirmish was done quickly, and I soon stood before them again waiting for their next assault. 

They sent me creatures of all sorts, flying and running and slithering along the ground. They sent me single combatants and groups, and yet I beat them all, unscratched. After some time had passed, or no time at all, we stood there in silence again. I had been delayed long enough.

“Learn to let Luna’s favored pass without incident, lest you stoke the wrath from those so blessed,” I said.

In response, I simply got sounds of amusement, ranging from booming laughs to tinkling giggles. I was not pleased at this response.

“Enough,” said Sansibar in a strong tenor voice. “You have amused us this meeting. We will let you pass without harm.”

“It’s so charming,” said Soughtenborough in her pearling soprano. “To think that she would make threats to us. I do wish we could play with her more.”

“We are needed elsewhere,” Sainsibar said, walking away into a swirling vortex. “Goodbye blessed of Luna,” she said as she turned around and disappeared.

“Until we meet again,” said Soughtenborough as she ran off after her sisters form.

That left Swisilace standing there, a stark contrast against the white snow. “We will meet again,” she said, her voice a rich alto. “I can see your need for places owned by the courts of the Raksha. But understand this, moonchild, there is no guarantee that you we will indulge your demands next time. Consider this a brief respite.”

And with that, she too disappeared, leaving me to continue my quest in this ever changing landscape.

 **Glimpsing through to Heaven**  
61 doors lead into the paradise that my husband whisked me to for our honeymoon. He showed me each one in the heavenly city and asked that I check on them when I can. In Creation, I have touched but four. Each time I step through and nod to the golden lions that await me on the other side. They nod back, seeing Luna’s blessing upon me. They say, “All is well in the heavenly city, moonchild.” I tell them, “All is not well in Creation, but we will persevere.” Then, I spend a minute, or an hour, or a day, simply standing by the gate and watching the traffic that flows through it, or gaze upon the wonders of heaven. It is a happy ritual, and each new gate I discover brings me joy in anticipation of repeating it. Then I bid the lions farewell and return to Creation. 

**In the Shadow of Death’s Gate**  
I walked among the grey plants and the blackened soil. There was no soul around, save for the odd bird that flew high overhead. Most living things do not come into the Shadowlands, for fear of staying past nightfall, wandering into the Underworld. I saw the remains of a band that attempted to push the Shadowlands back by celebrating life, some sort of fertility ritual from the torn nightgowns fluttering among the ashes and bones. It seems they fed it instead. Most know better than to risk their lives where the dead can reach out for living blood, avoiding them where they could.

But these lands, these boundaries between life and death, were still part of Luna’s domain, and it was my duty to keep watch over them for my dear husband. Particularly when I was given a dreamquest in search of an item or for lost knowledge, as I was right then. The moon had already risen, shining silver in the darkening sky. I always felt stronger and more at ease when I knew my husband was looking down on me.

As the last light faded from the sky, I opened my eyes to the dark and faded land of the Underworld. The day was just beginning here. I steeled myself, and headed in the direction my husband had indicated. My quest had just begun.

 **Sweeping the Sand that Blows in the Door**  
I walked the sinking, sliding sands of Cecelyne as I moved closer to the city of Malfeas. I can not say that I have made many journeys to the demon realm, but I have made enough to see that the Yozi were still imprisoned, at least last I checked. To make sure that Malfeas still stands intact, holding his fallen kin, I make the journey. I sometimes guide and protect those who must travel these sands to give Luna reverence by changing themselves, but most often I travel alone.

I see the dangers that Cecelyne has for the weary traveler. I have seen the oasis that she brings, with their travelers' tents bright in the sunlight. It seems innocuous, offering aid, water, and the comfort of beautiful bodies. I know that sometime during my travels of her sands, I will have to visit her oasis, if only to please my husband. But it is not now, and so I bid a greeting and an apology to Cecelyne. I hope that she will not extend my travels much for spurning her offer of aid; or torment, for only she knows the answer. 

For now, I must simply move on. There are still three days left to travel.

 **Of the Seal I Cannot See**  
I have visions of circles upon circles, seven overlapping and an eighth that encompasses them all. Surrounded by brass, all else outside the light of this seal is in shadow. Metal is everywhere. Sparks run along the metal, though they light no fires. There is no sky above me, only more metal. The air hums with prayer, and the gods walk on metal legs. I have seen many, many places in my travels through Creation and outside of it, but nothing I have seen begins to match this alien place. Nevertheless, I search for it. I have a feeling that one day, it will find me. 


	6. Magnificent Jaguar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnificent Jaguar, free in jungles under canopy or law, master of himself and his surroundings.

**Jungle Tribes Inland from the Cinder Isles**  
The hot jungle is no real place for man. It is a barbarous living, constantly fighting disease, scrounging and hunting for food, fighting off predators that would make a meal of a man. It makes them strong to resist it, to _make_ it their place. I am proud that they did so without my guidance. 

But, they are still children unto the Exalted. If left alone they will strike each other, compounding their misery, and not even remember the reason if asked. It takes constant attention to keep the peace when one man steals a fruit from another man’s tree, or a woman steals a mate from another woman, or simply not having enough of something to go around and squabbling over scarcity. It is tiring, yet what parent would give up on their children just because they are tired?

Of late, since my arrival, their standard of living has improved. They do not squander their strength against each other, and can successfully raid the Cinder Isles’ civilized folk. Most of the rare goods they have no use for - I take those for myself. Gems, coin, both jade and silver, maps, gold, and other little valuable things one cannot eat or hunt with. The rest, their waterproof cloaks, their fine boats, their steel weapons, the tribe takes and uses. I have let them keep their ignorance of formal monetary trade so that they measure all things through their benefit to living in the jungle. It makes for easy tribute, tribute I hoard or trade for supplies to send to the Caul.

 **The Caul**  
I remember praying to Luna at the First City, at Faxai, at Asura. I have not felt closer to Luna in my life with the exception of my Exaltation. It was like smelling the second breath - as close as possible to breathing it in again. At the time, I questioned my purpose in a world driven by Solar rule. When I had completed my prayer pilgrimage to the Caul, I remembered that surviving through hardship is what Luna chose us for. Of course it would not be easy. Because we had mastered Creation's wilderness, new challenges, bureaucratic in nature, sprung forth. Luna needed us to find a way to live a free life even in the jungles of brick, stone, and jade. And to teach others by example how to do the same.

I want all of Luna’s Chosen to have the Caul available to them when they reach their moment of crisis as I did. That the Dragons claim it for themselves is an affront to Luna. I would share it with them if they could allow it, for Gaia is just as spiritually in residence as Luna on that holy island, forgiving them their ancestor’s transgressions. Yet, I cannot. I do not trust them to stay their blades while I close my eyes in communion with my goddess. That is why I support Sha’a Oka’s crusade. 

**The Wyld**  
When you journey in the Wyld, you find what you're looking for. Having your dreams weave themselves real and dance before you is dangerous, addictive. It is best not to go alone so that your companions can help you keep your sanity. But if you do travel with companions in the Wyld, you learn about them from what dreams they conjure, what landscapes you stumble into... and from what follows you there. Odessa and I wanted someplace safe to hide until the Solars returned. She didn't live long enough, and I didn't stay long enough for that hope to change into hopelessness. But every time we found a quiet corner of the Wyld to call our own, it would be overrun by twisted, Wyld corrupted elementals, or facsimiles of Fae from all the Elements. Even Earth Fae, which I have found no evidence really exist even as much as your average Faerie does. And there at the front of every battle was Leviathan rending them apart. He may have summoned them, made them, dreamed them out of his need for vengeance. There were nearly a dozen of us, so there was no way to be sure. It could have been anyone’s nightmares. Leviathan, though, always seem to know when they would be coming.

There was no separating, though. We were sworn to each other by then. You don't travel the Wyld and breaks oaths lightly - that mad place respects little, but oaths are on the top of that short list. Oathbreakers find even less certainty when the Wyld knows their words to be false, as if they’re always one step deeper into the madness. I broke my promise to Odessa, to keep her safe, so I knew. It was part of my decision to risk returning to Creation.

 **Chimera**  
The Chimera are abominations. They must be slain, every one. To walk about without a Caste is disgraceful, putting your loved ones a risk, putting Luna’s blessing at risk to mindlessness and rage. They are less than beasts. They are disease made flesh, consuming everything until they burn through all that is good. I cannot express my dislike strongly enough.

If you find one, you must do more than simply kill it. You _must_ burn it. I made that mistake once, when Chimera were new to the world. It regrew from its parts and came back to strike us. It took Odessa before any of us knew what was happening. I slew it myself and ripped her body out of it’s belly. But, I was too late and the moonlight had faded from her. That night, I burned the pieces, stirred the ashes, piled on more wood and burned them again. I will heap you with rewards of your choosing if you bring me Chimera ashes. Do not hold back on how much you destroy them. I will know them by the smallest speck.

 **Cairn of the Jaguar**  
Luna has blessed me with the form and the mind to embrace change. To seek out freedom even with the hardship that clings to it like a leech. But there is one change I am not ready for. I may never be ready for it. That change is death.

I was not alone, not in the First Age, anyway. Once Facet Raven died, before my time, but all the Celestials then knew of him, many pursued immortality. Or, at least protection from the ravages of age that the Celestials once thought themselves naturally immune to. Many solutions were found, and my previous incarnation, Jaguar Fourclaws, built the Cairn of the Jaguar as his way. He was on the forefront of Lunar anagathics, and this Manse was his proof of the concept. It takes an unreasonable amount of Essence the way this first Manse works. But study of its results produced the effect that would later enhance Bear Sleep Technique into Time-Bending Chrysalis. To sleep forwards in time but backwards in age was thought to be impossible before the Cairn was built. The standard thinking went that peaches of immortality could not be replicated wholly or in part, especially by Lunar Essence. But, building Manses of that size and grandeur can provide enough Essence to power through limitations by force to show what is possible before refinement of the concept produces something useful. 

I’ve never mastered either Charm. But I have slept in the Cairn. Due to my gunzosha days, I have an untested fear that I will not naturally live as long as other Celestials. So little is known of Solar and Lunar ageing, only a dozen or so have ever died in that fashion, including Facet Raven and Ingosh Silverclaws. I can tell, now, that the Cairn cannot help me ease that fear any longer. It is broken, bent somehow. I slept longer than I intended. I do not have the skill to fix it. I have spent my time since waking elsewhere, time I feel I now have in abundance. So much else needs restored in this age that I cannot sleep again so soon. I will have to take my chances with ageing for the time being and come back to fixing the Cairn before it is too late.


	7. Leviathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leviathan, giving centuries old advice centuries ago.

**The Silver Pact**  
We have no one to trust but the mortals too weak to oppose us and each other. Remember that, Swims in Shadows. Tell the rest. The Silver Pact is our lifeblood, it is our culture, it is the only society which we are obligated to pay our membership.

It may have been formed in the First Age, but it was our trial of mutual suffering in sacrifice in the Wyld that truly forged our Pact into what it is today. But you were there, near the end. You saw how we lived out there. Not life at all, rather as story with a vindictive author ready to write our bloody ends.

 **The Wyld**  
When in the Wyld, it is best to keep your thoughts well-controlled. If you desire a place to be, desire Creation. If you desire food and drink, desire nourishment, not taste. If you desire sleep, desire safety, not comfort. If you desire entertainment, then you’ve probably done well enough already and I have no advice for you. 

The Wyld will give you what you want, but it will play and fiddle with everything unspecified. Know what you’re really after. Accept nothing else.

 **The Dragon-Blooded**  
I wish they had but one neck, that I might sever it. But no, they are far beyond ten thousand, and even if they deserve it, I am not capable of dealing them each their deaths. Instead, I try to think on them little, to keep the Wyld ocean around me from boiling.

 **The Sidereals**  
Oh, I keep an eye on the stars. As I’m sure they keep an eye on me. They won’t be visiting again. Not after the last time.

 **The Solars**  
Perhaps if the Solars had returned immediately like they always had in the First Age, while the Shogunate was weak, these wasted years would be different.

Alas, the Solars will never come back. Not in the numbers we’d need them to to make a change. Not enough in number, and far too young to set things right. 

(Reader’s Note: These thoughts were dictated in Deliberative years 4127 to 4139 as I, Swims in Shadows, roamed the edges of Creation with Leviathan.)


End file.
